


monsters

by x (ordinary)



Series: Persona 4 Ficlets [3]
Category: Persona 4
Genre: Accomplice Ending, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Drabble, F/M, Ficlet, Ghosts, Heartholding, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Murder, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordinary/pseuds/x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr ficlets not large enough for their own home, following the misadventures of Adachi & Yu in various forms and universes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. F!Yu x Adachi, accomplice ending

Yu wraps her fingers around his tie, tugs him down close for a kiss and the fog swells around them, through her lungs and into his, and their eyes glitter yellow, just for a moment, just because–

They pass through the crowds unnoticed, hand in hand or otherwise, just another couple. And no one looks up from their feet any more, anyway. Why would they? The sky hasn't show itself in an eon and it feels an awful lot like home, no matter where she goes. 

The fog hangs off her limbs, needy like an animal, winding between her legs and tracing her footsteps, never far behind. A collection of shadows, too numerous to count.

He’s been transferred back into the city and so Yu makes the train ride to see him, to bring him lunches at the station and people think she’s charming and that’s how it’s always been, how it always is, how it always will be. It’s a cycle that’s dying slowly, and she’s never been so pleased to bear witness to anything, not even her own destruction.


	2. F!Yu x Adachi: make me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adachi hangs around to bother Yu after her family's gone to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "Come over here and make me."

She’s drying the dishes from dinner, and he’s crowded in behind her, heat coming off of him in waves. He’s not close enough to touch– not yet– and Yu can feel his eyes on her. 

Nanako is in bed. Dojima-san is too, recently retired after the last round of drinks, half-carried there by an equally drunk Adachi. And so, it’s just the two of them, now, in near-silence. He’s too drunk to drive, and her license is only for a scooter.

It’s not the first time this has happened. Yu is familiar with the routine.

“Adachi-san,” she says, calm, not an ounce of irritation in her voice. “Must you stand so close?” 

But he just laughs, a warm gust in her ear, and tugs on a braid. It’s so easy to forget, sometimes, that he isn’t just a child like the rest of her suitors. That he is full grown, and holds power in his palm: age and experience, sexual or otherwise. He admires her like a cat does the canary in its paws. 

But she is not  _prey_ , and the power is an illusion. Yu turns to look at him, stern.

“Go sit down,” she says, and the water is still running, the roar of his blood thunderous in her ears. There’s a knife in her hand, a towel in the other, and it would be easy. He would bleed and she would watch.

“Ehh? But Yu-chan, don’t you think there’s something better I could be doing instead?” There’s a leer in his voice. Adachi’s hand slides over her hip and tugs her closer, so her ass is rubbing against his crotch.

Yu dries the knife and sets it down, turning to press at his chest with both calloused palms, heavy against his solar plexus.

“Why don’t you ever behave?” she asks, peering down at his sprawled form on the hardwood floor, curiosity in her voice.

He tilts his head, beckoning to her with a crooked finger, danger evident in the set of his teeth. Yu observes it, weighs the danger and discards it, concerns scattered to the wind, 

“Ahh, well. Why would I listen to some kid? You’ll just have to come over here and  _make_ me.”  He’s smug, and there’s a challenge in every word.

Yu, to her credit… smiles back, encroaching on him with a hunger in her heart.


	3. F!Yu x Adachi: shrine ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character death, ghosts, literal heart holding

 “Tohru,” she whispers, the words furling across his skin like whorls of frost. “Do you trust me?”

Tatsuhime Shrine is quiet at night: even the cicadas and locusts have gone still, leaving him to his thoughts and his thoughts to the wolves. His breath crystallizes in the dead of night, her white hair glowing halo-bright under watery moonlight.

And the answer is: _No_ , not at all. _No_ , I know what you are. _No_ , you know what I’ve done.

But another part of him, the part of him that’s winning, lunging with spittle-slick jaws towards her in his mind, says: “Of _course_ , Yu-Chan.”

She takes Adachi’s hands with her own, fingers clasped over bony knuckles, cold and incorporeal. She loves him. She's said as much. And she's always been nothing but delicate promises, breathy sighs as he takes her in the dark, no matter what he says or asks her to do.

And that means he _owns_ her, doesn't it? She owes him, for all the things he's done for her. His trust is just another thing in the long list of things Yu-Chan should be grateful for.

She shows it, too. Yu holds his hand, and reaches up to cup his face with a pale, icy hand, kissing him sweetly.

They've done this before: a dozen times, a thousand times. A calendar year of obedience, because why have any common woman when he could ruin something so pure? They've done this before, but never quite like this.

Her grip turns painful and she pulls him tight, and all the air his lungs rushes into the void, head going fuzzy. Adachi realises, in this moment, that he feels himself drowning. He struggles but there is _too much mass_ occupying the shape of where Yu should be. What has been waifish grows more substantial, sturdier and her pale hair tarnishes into silver. 

Yu reaches into the core of him with incorporeal skeleton-bone hands, thrusting past the skin and bone of Adachi's ribs. Gingerly, she clutches his still-beating heart in her intangible grasp, gold harvest-moon eyes peering up at him in awe.

She smiles and in it is the moon. She smiles and it is the night sky, past the point where stars are. 

“You are a liar,” she says, and Adachi gurgles wordlessly, the pain in him starburst bright, the light fading from his eyes. “But you’re a beautiful one.”

 

 


End file.
